


The T

by MayLaNee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, Breakfast, Conversations, Humor, Language, Language Barrier, Languages and Linguistics, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Purebloods (Harry Potter), Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayLaNee/pseuds/MayLaNee
Summary: Scorpius brings his well-educated boyfriend to the manor for Sunday Morning Family Time. What ensues is a ... conversation.T is spilled.Based on an RP with Klybneeka who also thought of Hugo's theory, so credit for that goes to her!Also - I went full geek on this, apologies ^^
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Hugo Weasley
Kudos: 9





	The T

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Klybneeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klybneeka/gifts).



Sunday mornings were _special_ in Malfoy manor. 

Lucius didn’t get to loom over a lot of influential people these days, so his son would have to do.  
He had instated the Sunday Morning Family Time by showing up every Sunday morning ever since Cissy and himself had moved out of the manor.

Draco hadn’t complained. 

He had, in fact, been appropriately welcoming.

Astoria was a decent woman, so even though she was not usually present, Lucius knew she was spending her time tastefully.

And Narcissa, well… Narcissa kept insisting on Draco’s independence. 

Ridiculous.

The point of society is to depend on one another, and who better to depend on than one’s own family?

His grandson, on the other hand, had always been a bit particular.   
He had been in Ravenclaw, for one, which was _quite_ unusual for a Malfoy.

The boy had always been a bit too ‘free’ for Lucius’ tastes… especially since he’d apparently settled for a _Mudblood from a blood traitor family_ as a partner… _He_ looked exactly like all his other relatives. 

The young man had been in Slytherin, but Lucius still didn’t want to befoul his mouth with the topic. 

.

Scorpius wasn’t particularly fond of Family Time.  
He’d spent eight months abroad for his PhD in MagiZoology and this family stuff had been miles from his mind. 

But, since he was on British soil anyway to see his partner of three years, it was only decent to say hello.

…and it was about time that his family met him.

.

So now Lucius was at his place at the head of the table. Draco was seated at his right side and his grandson at his left, with his... person… at the other side of him.

“How is Australia suiting you?” Lucius asked his grandson pleasantly. The boy was well-spoken and could make for interesting conversation.

“Oh rather well! I saw piggelwumps the other day, there were _FOUR._ At once! I had not expected to see so many so soon. And there was the gillthrottle, I’ve actually _HELD_ one, oh and there were alligators? I mean — _of course_ there were.”   
He gestured with his teacup as he spoke, so the steaming liquid sloshed perilously close to the rim.   
“I had not expected to find so many fascinating specimens so quickly, not to mention the dragon. Did I show you the dragon?”

Lucius sighed.   
He had again forgotten the boy’s… _demeanour…_ when it came to _beasts._  
“I believe you did not…” he said, some resignation in his tone.

Scorpius ‘unlocked’ his ‘phone’, went through the gallery, and showed his grandfather some photos. 

The only signs of ‘encouragement’ he received were nasal exhales that could be mistaken for amusement. 

When Scorpius quickly swiped images to the side, apparently looking for _‘a beautiful one, you’ll love it’,_ Lucius expressionlessly made eye contact with Draco. 

The response was a single shoulder shrug and another bite of brioche.

“Ah well.” Scorpius sighed when his attempts to find the _fascinating_ image proved fruitless. 

Lucius was relieved… but then Scorpius said: “Fuck it.”

Lucius cocked a brow.

“Sorry!” Scorpius said quickly, clapping his hand over his mouth.

“What — is he not allowed to say ‘fuck’?” Hugo piped up as he put down his tea.

Lucius regarded the young man coldly.   
“He is ‘allowed’ to express himself through the vernacular of every level of society he deems appropriate…” He helped himself to another scone. 

Draco gave a curt nod and proceeded to chew.

Hugo made a noise of incredulity. “Good one, right, okay… But: Sorry, who even uses words like that?”

Lucius looked the Mudblood up and down.   
“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, his voice communicating that he knew _exactly_ what was meant, but insisted that it would be explained so that the speaker could realise their own stupidity.

“What I said,” Hugo said with a shrug. 

“…and what is _that_?” Lucius bit, more annoyed.

“Words like ‘vernacular’ — it’s not because you just think that what Scorp said is rude, you’ve got to wrap it in an insult and pretend it’s not.”   
He rolled his eyes and was entirely unimpressed by Lucius’ expression of enraged shock as he continued, undeterred:   
“We’re adults, okay, if you wanna say something, don’t hide what you mean. If you wanna be rude, be honest about it.”  
He took a bite of his scone and continued to speak: “Being straightforward earns you far more respect these days.”

Draco made sure to take smaller bites, in case he was summoned to the battle field by either side.  
His son and father both thought he agreed with them. 

They didn’t know that he had given up on opinions a long time ago.

Scorpius put his phone aside.   
“Yeah it’s like… you’re so desperate to express your perceived superiority through language itself rather than through content, that it becomes a game of superficiality that can only be recognised as such by fellow players — but it’s old, it’s hollow, and the social context it originated from has been undermined so nobody _lives_ like that anymore and we should be able to just _be_ and be _open_ , and _free_ , also in communication.”

Draco had gradually slowed down his chewing and looked at his son.   
“There was no need for that,” he said, wishing he’d had the sense to say it twenty years ago.

Scorpius looked at him and panic seemed to strike.   
“I’m sorry, just nervous, never thought I’d have breakfast with my boyfriend, father and grandfather at the same time, I know it’s ‘not done’…”   
He looked at his fuming grandfather in particular.   
“-and to sit here makes all that just rather… salient to me, I suppose. Rambling mess, I know.“  
He took a deep breath and combed his hand through his hair, pulling his blond curls back so they looked straight.  
“Truly sorry,” he said, looking at both patriarchs in turn. 

“So… ” he took a deep breath in an obvious attempt to change the topic. “How are the peacocks? Do you still have horses?”

“No horses.” Draco said dully, shaking his head a bit and turning to his father as if to pass the rest of the question on to him. 

“The peacocks, yes…” Lucius said darkly, his eyes drilling into Hugo once more. “Most noble creatures…”  
He proceeded to talk, but Hugo thought of how Scorpius had told him that the birds did little more than crap and shout.   
He grinned a bit and shook his head, but then a question was asked which halted the conversation in its tracks. 

“Those peacocks aren’t magical, are they?” 

Lucius, in response to this, gave Scorpius an odd look. 

“How does that matter?” Hugo whispered loudly at Scorpius.

“It doesn’t to _me_ ,” Scorpius answered.

Draco cast an ever so casual glance at his Father.

Lucius looked haughtier than before. “Water isn’t magical either, is it?” he said curtly. 

Hugo perked up, and Scorpius leaned back to figuratively allow him the stage.   
“Well — actually,” Hugo started, glad to have something to contribute. 

He hadn’t expected he would be able to present his scientific thoughts with three members of one of the oldest pureblood families in magical Britain. 

No matter what would become of this, their response would be _interesting_.

He beamed as he spoke: “There is a theory — a theory in the sense that magical science is having a hard time to disprove it — that magic resides in oxygen. Water consists of hydrogen and oxygen, so there is definitely magic in water. It’s in the air, too, and wizards just happen to be good at manipulating it. It’s not in blood per sé, — ” 

Scorpius had been nodding along vigorously and now piped up. “Yeah it’s in the prenatal environment so it’s a nutrient, not a constituent.”

“Yeah indeed.” Hugo said with a nod to him, then turned back to his politely blank father- and grandfather-in-law. He proceeded: “If anything, the real magic is in the digestive system because that is what allows us to filter it out of the world.“   
Then he turned to Draco, who looked at him with polite curiosity.   
“Which might explain why my mother was always better than you at school — she just had a better digestive system. Nothing to do with blood.”

Scorpius visibly withdrew a little deeper into his chair, but Draco just looked at Hugo.   
A nerve had been struck, but his face remained neutral. 

He picked up his scone and politely smiled in a way that did not reach his eyes. 

“Fascinating insight…” He said calmly “…though it’s a moot point, considering at least three quarters of the Hogwarts curriculum consists of writing essays and following instructions. Not to mention that she didn’t have to intellectually carry two mentally deficient ‘friends’ for most of her school career.”

He took another bite, making a point to look casual. 

Lucius seemed to have found back his tongue. “Now now Draco, her acquaintances surely swept her up in ‘saving’ the world, so she, too, was otherwise occupied…“

Scorpius sat a little lower in his chair still, and mumbled something which contained the word ‘awkward’.

Draco gave his Father a look of polite incredulity, his eyes the thin ice over a lake of old aches. “…you are genuinely going to take issue which my school career, which ended decades ago?”

Lucius looked his son dead in the eyes. “Disappointments can leave rather lasting impressions…”

Draco seemed to elongate himself, his posture becoming so rigid he might have been a mannequin.   
He took another sip of tea, then patted his mouth with the serviette before putting it down and looking at his Father.   
“Disappointments come in many forms, and some are more persistent than others... Some are indeed _so_ persistent, that they bleed through into the next generation… which can do only so much to ameliorate the mistakes of the one before it.”

Lucius’ face seemed as white as his hair as he continued to stare at his son.

Scorpius sat so low in his chair that he was about to slip under the table. 

Draco cocked one corner of his mouth up, the rest of his face expressionless.   
“Some more tea?” he asked his father pleasantly, as he poured it for him regardless.

  



End file.
